A War of Wills
by cailin na gealai
Summary: Kate, the Shrew, meets Petruchio, the man who will tame her. One-shot. Basically a type-up of my character notes for Act 2, Scene 1. Rated T for Shakespeare's dirty jokes. Read and review please!


I heard. I heard everything. I, Katharina Minola, am to be wed to this unknown Petruchio. I don't want to wed this man I have never met. I am afraid. His voice sounds so foreign, so different. I heard my father, Baptista Minola, sell me to this man I have never seen.

Now I sit, in our window room. A large French window dominates one wall, and a small cushioned bench sits at the other wall, providing a comfortable view of the garden outside. My surroundings are idyllic, in contrast to my turmoil. I know Petruchio will be coming to me, and soon. He will want to see his prize. I must decide what I will say. My sharp tongue is a legend here. I will manage to drive him away. I drive everyone away.

As I contemplate what insults I will use, he enters. All I notice, at first, are his eyes. They are dark brown, oh-so-close to black. They widen, as I turn to see this man who will be my husband._ No, Kate, do not be happy. Your father has sold you to him._

"Good morrow Kate, for that's your name, I hear."

His voice is oily. He wants to talk, I can tell. I want to leave. I want to get away from this strange man.

"Well have you heard, but one thing hard of hearing.

They call me Katharina that do talk of me."

I am cold, indifferent. I want him to leave. Instead, he sits on the bench with me. He is close. Too close. I edge away, but I'm running out of room on the bench. Those eyes stare at me.

"You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,

And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst;"

He was too close, far too close, I had to get away. He immediately followed.

"But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom  
>Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,<br>For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,  
>Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;<br>Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,"

He tried to take my hand. I shook it off and moved away from him. _Go away! Just get away from me!_

"Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,  
>Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,<br>Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife."

He lied so effortlessly. No one called me anything but Kate the curst, Kate the shrew. His deceit made me narrow my eyes and look down at him as best I could.

"Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither

Remove you hence. I knew you at the first

You were a moveable."

I spit the last sentence at him. No one could stand Kate the shrew for long. Petruchio stared at me for a moment. Then, he simply asked,

"What's a moveable?"

I hissed back, "A joined stool."

He plopped himself back down on the bench and said, "Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me."

Quaking with rage, I choked out: "Asses are made to bear, and so are you."

In a movement, he was inches from me. "Women are made to bear, and so are you."

"No such jade as you, if me you mean." What right did he have to say such things to me?

He seemed to sense he had gone too far.

"Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee;

For, knowing thee to be but young and light-"

I interrupted.

"Too light for such a swain as you to catch.

And yet as heavy as my weight should be."

It was becoming a game now, I could tell. Who had the quickest wit?

"Should be! Should- buzz!"

I winced a little. Such a bad comeback.

"Well taken, and like a buzzard," I replied.

"O slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?" he replied craftily. I knew what he was getting at.

"Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard." I was annoyed, but also intrigued.

He turned his back and walked away while saying, "Come, come, you wasp, i'faith, you are too angry."

I followed him- I was too angry to do otherwise. "If I be waspish, best beware my sting." I said in a low, angry voice.

He turned. He was very close- we were practically nose to nose. Cheerfully, Petruchio said: "My remedy is then, to pluck it out."

I turned away. He was too close. "Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies." I couldn't believe what I was saying, it just popped out.

"Who knows not where a wasp does

wear his sting? In his tail."

"In his tongue," I shot back.

"Whose tongue?" he asked innocently.

I was done with this conversation. Holding my ground, I said, "Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell."

Petruchio said, "What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate, I am a gentleman."

The lying bastard! Men only wanted one thing from women.

"That I'll try!" I stepped up and slapped him.

He caught my hand. It hurt, but I wasn't going to let him know. "I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again."

Petruchio held my eyes and my hand for a second longer. When he let go, I was thoroughly shaken.


End file.
